


A Moment of Respite

by The_Jade_Goblin



Series: The Elf and the Magister [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but fluff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 20:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Jade_Goblin/pseuds/The_Jade_Goblin
Summary: After a long mission Dorian insists the Inquisitor get some rest, and he learns things he never knew about his favourite elf in the meantime.





	A Moment of Respite

Dorian glanced at Inquisitor Era'Assan Lavellen, for what was probably the fiftieth time that morning. Apart from looking a bit green as he usually did riding horses – he much preferred harts, more like halla – he looked as fine as ever, but Dorian knew him well enough now to read between the lines.

He was putting on a show, what Dorian called his 'Inner Inquisitor'. It was a facade to satisfy the eyes of the plebs, he had to appear strong and unshakable at all times, even among his inner circle.

Dorian hated it when he did that, he should be allowed to show his exhaustion if he needed it.

He nudged his horse closer to Assan's, leaving the rest of the party out of earshot.

"You could simply pass out you know," he said.

"How would that look? The Inquisitor, passed out in the arms of a Tevinter mage," Assan smirked. "Dorian, what would people think?"

Dorian allowed himself a small chuckle, but his concern remained. "After they were done accusing me of killing you, they'd probably be quite scandalised." he said.

"And we can't have that can we? Poor things wouldn't know whether to swoon or take up pitchforks after us," Assan chuckled.

Dorian didn't miss the way he tightened his grip on the reins however, nor how he sat more rigid than before. They were nearing Skyhold, and he was preparing his Inner Inquisitor. Dorian sighed.

"I'm alright," Assan added on softly, "I'm shaken, but I'm not about to fall down. I'm not a damsel Dorian,"

"Of course." Dorian said stiffly. "That doesn't mean you're immune to exhaustion however,"

"You've been through the same ordeal as me in the last few days. Everyone has. You don't see anyone else falling over in defeat."

"They won't because you won't. And everyone knows you have it ten times worse than anyone at all times, so if you won't falter, no one would dare to falter behind you." Dorian quipped. "It's far too easy for them to put you on a pedestal and treat you like a God more than a person. You're human too, well...more or less, if you pardon the expression,"

The elf smiled a little. "Alright Dorian, I admit I feel like I'm about to pass out and wake up in a months time in agony. Happy?"

"No." Dorian said childishly.

Assan rumbled in amusement. "Then what would make you happy  _ma'arla?"_

"Knowing what that means would be nice," Dorian grumbled.

Assan laughed. A real laugh, not one of those polite fake ones he'd seen all too much these days, but a real laugh that started from his chest and reached his eyes. Dorian smiled.

"Ah  _ma'arla,_ one day I'll get you a Dalish dictionary," he said.

"The sooner the better. You talk in your sleep you know, how else will I understand the juicy gossip?" Dorian joked.

Assan smiled.

"In all seriousness, it would make me very happy for you to rest. Forget all about being Inquisitor, and just rest,"

Assan's smile faded, to be replaced with a frown. "Dorian..." he said warningly. "You know I can't just – "

"Just for a day. You can't keep going on like this  _amatus!"_ Dorian cried. "Even you will fall down if you keep this up."

Assan sighed. "We'll talk about this later Dorian, I have a war council to convene with,"

He urged his horse forward through the gates of Skyhold ahead of the now glowering Tevinter. He watched as Assan dismounted and decisively walked ahead to his three advisors, clambering up the stairs and taking the reports handed to him, looking over them on their way to the War Room, Cassandra in tow.

"Cassandra," Dorian called as the Seeker hurried to catch up with the Inquisitor.

"What is it?" Cassandra said snappishly.

"After that council tonight, the Inquisitor is not to be disturbed until morning, he'll be very busy."

"With what?"

"With me of course," Dorian gave a dazzling smile and dismounted while Cassandra rolled her eyes. "I'm serious Seeker, he needs to rest. Give him one night at least,"

Cassandra hesitated, then nodded. Cassandra didn't trust Dorian as far as she could throw him, but she trusted Assan, and the elven archer trusted Dorian with his life, so it was good enough for her.

She would heed his request Dorian knew, she cared for the Inquisitor just as any of their companions, they would not be disturbed tonight.

Grinning at his victory, he busied himself with his books, lounging in the Inquisitor's quarters, waiting for him to retire for the night.

When the elf finally emerged, he looked even more exhausted than before. He was pouring over a report in his hands, his ebony hair out of its little band and spilling over his face, and didn't notice Dorian's presence.

Dorian could easily see he was stressed, because he usually kept his hair in a tight braid that fell to his right side, and very rarely took it out when on duty.

Now though, it was lose and flowing over his shoulder as the result of hastily undoing the braid. Though Dorian preferred it when it was out, he knew it wasn't a good sign.

He stood and crossed the room silently, taking the report from Assan's hands and setting it firmly on his desk in front of the surprised Dalish.

"No more work tonight." he said sternly.

"Dorian – "

Dorian gripped his shoulders and pushed him – gently but firmly – onto the bed. After a moment it was obvious to Assan he wouldn't win this argument, and he sighed in resignation as Dorian started undoing his tunic buttons.

If he was to be resigned to this, no reason he shouldn't enjoy it.

He locked lips with Dorian, who smirked and paused in his work for a moment to crawl over the lithe body of his lover, as Assan's arms wrapped around his neck and Dorian's hands went to his hips.

Assan's hands became fast, boarding on frantic, as they found Dorian's buckles. He chuckled and released the elf, working on his buttons again.

"We have time tonight, I called off your guard dog," Dorian smirked.

Assan raised an eyebrow. "And Cassandra just...let you? She's going soft,"

Dorian chuckled. "I've claimed you for the night,"

"Oh have you?" Assan smirked, mirth shining in his green eyes.

"You need to rest, anyone with eyes can see that."

"Well I won't be doing much of that with you here," Assan grinned slyly.

"Details, details," Dorian said dismissively, and leaned forward to steal another kiss.

There was no talk after that, just soft whispers in Tevene and Elvish, whimpers and moans smothered by bedsheets and pillows, and the quiet chanting of names into the night.

Eventually Assan lay sprawled over Dorian's chest, head moving with the deep breathes of the tanned Tevinter, completely at peace, something Dorian sadly saw so little of.

Dorian ran his fingers down the side of the half-asleep elf, until the candlelight glinted off something golden around Assan's neck.

Looking down curiously, he saw the source of the golden light.

It was his amulet, the one Assan never took off.

It was golden circle with intricate patterns engraved on it, a vial of what looked like ink rested in the centre, making the bud of a flower when lined up with the engraved patterns.

It was Dalish, that's all Dorian knew of it, and he thought now was a good a time as any to ask.

"What is this  _amatus_?" he asked taking the amulet in his hand.

Assan opened sleepy eyes to see what Dorian was talking about. "Oh. That." he said listlessly. "It's a Dalish amulet."

"I know that, but I mean...is it anything special?"

Assan sighed. "It belonged to my sister," he said.

Dorian noticed his entire body when stiff, and sensed he was entering painful territory.

"You have a sister?"

" _Had_ a sister." Assan said. "She's long gone now. It's tradition to carry a vial of the ink used for the  _vallaslin_  of dead relatives."

"What...what happened to her?"

Assan sat up, looking anywhere but Dorian. "It's not a pretty story," he whispered.

"Tell me anyway," Dorian said sitting up too.

Assan shook his head. Dorian put an arm around his trembling form. "Please."

"She was a year older than me," Assan began. "The best hunter in the clan. The Keeper sent her to scout the lands in the West. With Kirkwall becoming too dangerous to linger by, we were seeking new lands to settle in. Raeven went alone, and when she didn't return for months, I knew something was wrong. I begged the Keeper to let me look for her, but she wouldn't risk losing any of us. So I waited for Raevan to return."

"And she didn't," Dorian guessed.

"Oh she did. But she was...not her." Assan said softly. "She was...a living corpse. The walking dead, she stumbled and shrieked unintelligibly, with no life in her eyes. All she knew was death. She was sent to destroy the clan, and she killed many before we finally cornered her in the forest. I...I struck an arrow through her heart, and she fell into my arms. Her eyes cleared then, and she said my name..."

Assan chocked on a sob, and Dorian tightened his grip on him. "Whatever cruel magic that held her in this world ended, and she died begging me to remember her as she was, not what she had become, and cried for forgiveness before the light in her eyes faded. I tracked down who had done this to her, despite the Keeper telling me to stay. I found her killers..."

Dorian waited, holding his breath without realising it.

"I found Tevinter mages." Assan growled. "They confessed everything as they died. They'd experimented on her, then killed her, and brought her back to wreck havoc in our clan for their  _amusement._ Those shems died screaming for their mothers when I was done with them."

Assan was shaking with furious rage. "I gutted them, slit their throats and killed them slowly, painfully. But it didn't satisfy me. It brought me no justice to see what that anger and made me turn into..."

Assan took a deep breath, and heaved a sigh. "I was terrified of what I had done. I had never felt such rage in my life. I returned to the clan, and spoke of it to no one. That was six years ago now."

"Assan..." Dorian didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry."

Assan looked up at him, and managed a smile. "It was long time ago Dorian."

"I'm still sorry. Those were my countrymen...mages just like me..."

"No." Assan turned, and wrapped his arms around Dorian's waist. "You're nothing like them. You would never do something like that. I know that, you know that. The rest of the world paints Tevinter with the same brush, but it's not true. I know one good thing that came out of Tevinter,"

He pressed his lips to Dorian's, who shuffled uneasily under his touch.

"Does my being Tevinter truly not bother you?" he asked.

"Of course not." Assan answered. "Not anymore. I love you for _you_ , no matter where you're from."

 

 

Dorian smiled. "What do you think your sister would say to you if she could see us like this?"

"Oh she'd have a few things to say about," Assan chuckled. "I can see her now. 'A  _shem?_ Really Era'Assan? A Tevinter  _shemlen?_  What would mamae say?'"

Dorian laughed. "And my mother, squawking while she had a heart-attack,"

The two laughed heartedly into the night, and though Dorian knew the peace wouldn't last, that when morning came his lover would be up and working to restore order again, he took comfort in knowing he could still bring that sweet smile to the elf's face, if at least for one night.


End file.
